


I Wanna Go Crazy With You

by lizook12



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Future Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-13
Updated: 2015-04-13
Packaged: 2018-03-22 18:55:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3739798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizook12/pseuds/lizook12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His wife is darting between groups, leading the charge of people ganging up on him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Wanna Go Crazy With You

**Author's Note:**

> This work may not be reposted without my consent. 
> 
> Title taken from Tim McGraw's _Felt Good On My Lips_.

He’s not sure how it even starts. 

One minute he’s crouched low in Digg’s backyard, hooking up the sprinkler for the kids and the next thing he knows there’s water guns and balloons flying. 

The suspected culprits—the band of two to four year olds that make up the actual guests of the party—are mostly oblivious. 

Busy running in circles and trying to steal icing from Sara’s birthday cake. 

The adults, however, are relentless and he barely has time to grab a squirt gun from the middle of one of the junior picnic tables—where had Felicity found a Super Soaker?—before things get crazy. 

Thea pushes Roy into the kiddy pool. 

Lyla’s lobbing balloons with great accuracy. 

And his wife—stray strands of hair curling against her jaw—is darting between groups, leading the charge of people ganging up on him.

He should have known insisting on no dessert for the annual QC fundraiser was going to catch up with him when he least expected. 

(Felicity had repeatedly said how much they all looked forward to the mini-pies.)

Water bursts out of the sprinkler suddenly and he darts away, tossing a glare over his shoulder at Digg. “You’re supposed to be on my team, man.” 

He just shrugs, tossing his wife another balloon. “Lyla wouldn’t shut up about the missing pecan pie…” 

The confirmation makes Oliver laugh, his weapon dropping to his side, shoulders relaxing, as he surveys the scene. 

The kids are still entertaining themselves, Thea and Roy seem to be involved in some sort of splash war, and Felicity… 

A cold spray drills him in the back, low at first before moving up to the soft spot between his shoulder blades. 

The one she knows is sensitive. 

Slowly, he turns to face her, the constant stream soaking his shirt as he does. 

Their eyes meet as she ceases fire, everything else fading away for a long moment, and then she’s laughing, her eyebrow lifting as she pelts him once more. 

From his pec to his hip and back up again. 

He attempts to fire back but a water balloon bursting over his head ruins his aim and he only manages to spray her already slick ponytail before dropping the squirt gun and lifting his arms in surrender. 

“Giving up?” 

“I know when to trust my intel.” He raises a brow, glances to both sides. “And my intel right now is telling me that even if I could take out you and the Diggles, I’m surrounded… Smith, I see you behind that tree…” 

“I told you to go behind the sliding board.” She tosses the comment toward the giant maple and shakes her head before turning back to her husband, a soft smile curving across her face. 

He’s drenched, drops catching in his eyelashes, white shirt plastered to his chest, and even though they’ve clearly won she can’t resist one last blast. 

Lifting the Super Soaker, she steps closer in attempts to shoot it down his back. Her foot slips on the wet grass in the process though and she drops the gun, jerks forward. 

He reacts instantly, his hands landing low on her waist, trying to steady her, but the momentum is too much. 

“See… I…” She flexes her fingers against the nape of his neck as they fall to the ground. “Completely outmaneuvered you.” 

“That’s because you’re always studying me when we’re in our gym instead of joining the calisthenics.” 

“I don’t remember you complaining after our run Thursday…” 

He smirks, his knee pressing to her hip. “I didn’t realize the new punching bag was so… resilient…” 

Grinning, she stands slowly and pulls him to his feet.

“Come on…” Nudging him back towards the bench where Laurel and Iris sit weaving the birthday girl a story about a magical teapot, she leans against him, his shirt riding high as she runs her hand up and down his side, not caring about the dampness soaking into her dress. “I’ll keep you warm.”

 


End file.
